Cheaters Prosper
by PrettyxInxSin
Summary: Cheaters never prosper, right? You can't be the winner by dating somebody you only liked while being in love with your best friend. You don't get the best of both worlds so you need to make a decision and you're pretty sure it's going to be the shitty option, the one that results in the startling reminder that you really do love him. Flushed!GamKar. Humanstuck AU, York!Stuck.


Two-shot! First part written in second person. Second half will be written in third, with all the smutty goodness I imagine everybody is waiting for. I figure a teaser is always good before delivering the results. Let me know what you think. Feedback and reviews are greatly appreciated. Flames used to make myself some s'mores. Also helps with sick fires. Enjoy!

* * *

Your name is Gamzee Makara and you're having a bit of a conflict with yourself.

After a long day of helping your boyfriend, Tavros, get a tour of the college here in Queens, you were pretty beat. The campus was extensive and you had to wheel him from place to place, make sure he knew all the right people and found the proper resources that would ensure his Freshman year was a successful one.

In conclusion, your feet hurt and you were a little tired. You figured nothing could energize you more than visiting your best motherfucking bro, Karkat.

His greeting to you was nothing new.

"Really, fuckass? Really? Just show up uninvited, I'm sure. I don't know if it occurred to you in that shriveled up brain of yours you have renamed a 'think pan', but sometimes, it doesn't hurt if you leave me a text before meandering over to my fucking house and showing up with your putrid clown ass."

"Y'know, Karbro, don't up and hurt to admit you want my company."

You just shoot him a languid grin. He seems to be analyzing you with a bit of a glare and decides it's safe to admit the truth; He sighs, before smiling a little.

"Fine, but after this, you never heard it from me."

"Sure thing, my wicked motherfucker."

You slip past him and make yourself at home. Nobody was around – just two friends with time to kill.

And kill it you do – you rotate between a couple of his romcoms and your horror, play a few games, and watch him upbraid Sollux ("Do you see this incompetent cuntbag I call my friend, Gamzee? I hope you're taking notes about how not to be this unbearable") in a matter of several hours.

Damn.

11:30. You should leave – his dad and brother might pop up soon. They were nice, and willing to have you over, but you came without a warning and had to go to work tomorrow. Some sleep is what you needed to get.

"Fuck me sideways." He grumbles beside you, glancing at his phone. "It's late. Buses aren't running and Dad has the fucking car."

Oh. Something you've definitely forgotten. 10:45 was the last running bus for the transit.

"Aw, it ain't no trouble. I can just walk."

"At this time of night? Gamzee, you do remember the last time you did that, right?"

Oh, yeah. _That._

You touch your nose, right where the scar would be visible had it not been for your face paint.

"Well, I mean, I ain't no weak motherfucker, I just…I'll up and be careful. I don't wanna scare your family with me bein' all up in your wicked crib, Karbro…"

"Oh, shut your protein shoot, dunderfuck. I'm not giving you an option. Come on, we can share my bed, its big enough…but you better not hog it. Last time I almost fell off of the fucking mattress."

You snort out a honk under a chuckle and nod. He leads you to his bedroom where he takes a seat on the mattress and lounges in his pillows.

It hadn't occurred to you until just now, but, you were about to crash with Karkat, your long-time crush.

In his bed.

Together.

You hadn't done that since you'd gotten with Tavros, since you two were friends with benefits.

This was going to be a little difficult. It was because you were _with _Tavros that you (obviously) had to halt the whole thing – it wasn't some big deal, or anything, the two of you knew that should one of you get into a relationship, it was over.

Still. To think, it all started because you raised such a suggestion. Karkat had realized he wanted sex (after vehement denial) but could only feel comfortable with somebody close, and you, well you, Makara, were just a horny little fucker who saw opportunity on the doorstep.

So you asked him. He didn't agree right off the bad but later that night when he dragged you along to a tragic play for his Beginning Theatre, he ended up reeling you in for a kiss and it all goes from there.

Three years. You're eighteen, now, and you've been in this relationship for five months.

Whoever writes those quotes and shit about "time making you forget" was higher than you after a smoking session. Time, Tavros…it didn't change your feelings one motherfucking bit.

You loved him then. You love him more now.

Fuck a motherfucker. Thinking about it forces you to look him over twice - He's looking rather handsome to you, perched on his bed with his mused, curling brunette locks trickling past his ears and beginning to ghost on his neck. There was a slight arch in his brow while crimson irises seemed to be picking apart every inch of you from where you stood; one arm rested on his abdomen, white tee hanging to his lanky frame with one shoulder out. From here, you could see the freckles coating the junction of his neck and dip underneath the fabric.

"Oi,_ estupido_, get out of your weird ass think pan and – ugh, God damn it you fuckass I keep using your word!"

He went on to ramble about something but you merely gave him a languid smile and he simmered down. You catch his flushed features and he covers his mouth with his hand, narrowing crimson eyes over at you.

"Aw brother, why you be up 'n coverin' that face of yours?" You taunt, biting one of your polished nails with a bit of a grin.

"Shutupandgowipethatstupidclo wnpaintoff."

"Damn, brother, you need to up and motherfuckin' breathe when you be speakin', but I be s'posin' you all kinds of right. I'mma go and get my clean on."

You meander into the bathroom [which, Karkat had the fortune of housing the master bedroom so it was merely a few steps away] and grab a washcloth you figure he's appointed for you. It takes you about five minutes to get the paint off, but once you've finished, you ruffle though your ebony locks and gaze at your reflection.

You didn't stop to think of it just now but he was flushing. He turned red, all because he used a word you constantly employed.

Now your think pan really _is _mixed up. Was that supposed to be in the business of meaning something, you wonder? Maybe you're just getting your hopes up, but what can you do anyway, even if there's an off-handed chance those feelings are returned? You're in a relationship.

"…"

You stare at the three scars that run down your features. They start at the corner of your left eyebrow and go down – flashes of the perpetrator's arm dragging the bottle down your face kept flickering; you managed to pull back for a moment and spared your eye before he kept bringing it down until stopping after your noise.

Sigh. This is as good as it'll get. You're glad they're faded out and pink. For a while, you couldn't even leave the apartment because of how raw they were. People couldn't keep their eyes off of you.

Don't you think you're doing too much thinking now? Scars and love interests…relationships you want out of but haven't the nerve to break open. You couldn't fathom hurting Tavros…

You shake your head and exit, stripping out of your combat boots and stretching. Right now you weren't wearing much – a tight ebony wife beater and the skinny jeans to match it.

"Jesus Fucking Christ, Gamzee, did you have a tea party with yourself in there? I've been waiting for twenty minutes now, are you gonna hurry up and get in or should I just kick your clown ass to the floor for the night?"

You laugh. One eye cracks open and you glance over at him.

He's still a little flushed, and his eyes seem to be on you.

Ideas start to accumulate. You smirk a little and hop onto the mattress; You nestle into a pillow and glance up at him with a raised brow and smirk still in place.

"What the ever-loving fuck are you smirking about you cocksucking twat?"

"You, brother. You be talkin' that shit but I be knowin' you're all up in' arms naggin' me so we can get the motherfuckin' cuddlin' on."

"Like hell I was. _Qué te hace__pensar…"_

Your friend is funny. He murmurs in rapid Spanish and you don't completely understand it but his action proves you right anyway – he lies down and nestles beside you and you let your arm slide over his waist.

For all of that swearing and cursing and mumbling, the result is the same. Karkat gives in, wordlessly admitting that yes, he was nagging and pestering you to hurry up so the two of you could cuddle and vent out frustrations the world handed you. The pair of you have done this often as children and picked it up again after your sixteenth birthday.

To say that you're enjoying this is an understatement. He was one cute motherfucker when he simmered down and stopped making those long-winded rants of his. You liked that as you've aged, he's been able to show you a softer side.

And so you come back to the notion that it's these kinds of moments that made you start to fall for him.

Your time passes in silence, at least, it does on your part. Karkat goes first when venting time comes around, ranting about work, prospective professors and how he was questioning their intellect, the student body ("They're a herd of cuntlicking morons willing to listen to every fucking word the fuckass Dean spits at them and he's a God for it"), work, his brother Kankri, work again, and a few other things you tuned out from.

While he talks, you nod, sometimes hum, when it's appropriate. Your hand, which was originally resting on his back, begins to stroke slow circles. Now and again he seems to pause, reflecting on your actions with a slight shiver in his frame before he keeps going. You lighten up your touch and walk your fingers down his spine before sliding your hand underneath his shirt.

"Mh! H-hey!" He hisses, hands clutching onto your wife beater. You prop yourself up on an elbow and hover over him with a languid smirk.

"What are you – hmn…" Your hand wanders further, going up to caress his shoulder blades and back down, keeping a rhythm going. You admire the feel of his cool skin, visualizing the freckles you've seen time and time again. If you remember correctly, there's one right here just centimeters down from his bony shoulder blade. Over here is where you once doodled a picture of a boat.

You think so, at least. You're not sure if that's the one, or if this is where you once painted a dorky clown face.

Your body is braced, ready for him to try and scratch and hit and shove. You're waiting on him to push you off and scold you, remind you of your moral obligations and how _wrong all of this was. _

You know that, but you can't be bothered to stop. Heat's pooling in your groin and now you're on top of him. Legs snake around your waist and the pair of you start to grind before air's on-demand and you both need to inhale.

"F-Fuck…"

"Mh…"

"G-Gamzee…ngh, what about…Tavros…"

You pause. You could cut it out right now and walk away with some semblance of pride knowing that you didn't cave to your temptation. You could feel accomplished in sticking to your guns and the pair of you would manage to shrug this incident off as a late night messing around with your think pans.

That's what the smart choice would be, you know that.

You should want to do the smart thing. You do, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to have one more night with him.

You couldn't have him, anyway, so you simply wanted to be greedy and take every inch of him, come what may.

Just one night.

How selfish you are, Makara.

Unable to answer or tell the truth, you seal your lips against his.


End file.
